Of Cereal and Arguments
by kaleidoscopeflowers
Summary: What was Nico doing when he was in the Underworld in TLO? A little oneshot glimpses into a normal, dysfunctional-family breakfast and into that part of his life. Just a bit of drabble. Read and review, please!


**This is just some drabble I wrote when I was reading TLO. I edited it a bit a while after, but this has no difference from the original for the most part. It's one of my earlier pieces that I actually thought was good, so I'm keeping it on the site, heh. Hope you enjoy.**

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I had nowhere else to go besides the Underworld.

Other half bloods were scared of me, Annabeth and Percy were off saving the world, and I was just . . . there. The youngest one, the son of Hades. It was probably better that I wasn't with everyone else.

I grumbled inwardly. I was pretty much stuck here until my father wanted to come out, and I had told Percy I would get him in the war. Spirits clawed at my clothing when I strayed too close to the lines of deceased, and I flicked them off with disgust. One does not want to smell like dead things when they come down for cereal. Well, at least not with Persephone or Demeter around.

It looked strangely normal to see my father, Persephone, and Demeter all sitting at a table eating cereal and I nearly laughed. They looked as close as any gods could get dysfunctional family, besides the fact that they were much bigger than normal people were.

I sat down at the table and was, as usual, purposely avoided by Persephone's eyes. My father gave me a little nod, but it looked as though he was afraid to address me in his wife's presence. Demeter scowled. "You smell like the dead," she said, her nose wrinkling, and a fresh bunch of flowers appeared on the table. "This is why I didn't want my daughter down here," she muttered under her breath.

She zapped me a bowl of Cornflakes. I was getting tired of them. We never had sugary cereal in the Underworld. Demeter always made granola or Cornflakes. I clung onto the memory of blue cake at Percy's apartment, which seemed like a million years ago.

_Cake, _I thought fondly. _Sugary, unhealthy, artificial cake. _I swallowed a mouthful of cereal and sighed. It was suicide to defy your godly relatives in any way, and that included asking for more breakfast options.

_Not even bagels, _I thought grumpily. Bagels were sounding like Olympus right now. At least you could put cream cheese on bagels. Something with fat on it.

"Mother," Persephone whined, "Can we have something other than Cornflakes?" I was silently relieved that she had asked.

Demeter looked hurt. "Yes," she said. "There's granola." She zapped her daughter's bowl. Persephone looked irritated. "No, Mom, something else. I hate cereal." She plunked down her spoon like a defiant teenager, but Demeter was stern.

"No. Cereal is more natural," she replied primly, and she ate a spoonful. Ah, mother-daughter spats. They haven't gotten any different.

"Fine," Persephone pouted. She stalked off, her chiton pulsing in different floral patterns like a disco ball, and the flowers on the table morphed into dead leaves. Demeter muttered something about not being grateful, and Father looked just uncomfortable. Demeter followed her daughter, turning the flowers back to their original state as she swept up her gown and left the table in a grand exit. That left my father and me alone. I fidgeted with the zipper on my jacket. He looked like he was trying to find an excuse to do something else too, but I realized that if we kept doing this I would never make any progress with our war campaign.

"Father," I said, sucking it up. "We need to go to war."

He looked at me. "Nonsense," he replied silkily. "We are safe in this realm. I am not an Olympian. And even if so, you will be the child of the prophecy. You will be trained until age sixteen, and then the other Olympians will finally recognize me." I heard a pang of sadness in his voice, like he didn't quite want to be alienated from his family.

I paused, unsure if I should barrel on or risk incineration. I chose the latter, because it probably wasn't the worst that could happen if I couldn't convince my father with the former.

"But," I said firmly. "This is serious. Kronos has a body. The minor gods are rising. And you just sit here with three major gods. At least let Demeter or Persephone go. This is real! Western Civilization could end today, and you're not doing anything about it!" My voice ended louder than I intended it to. My father started to get up from his chair with a murderous look on his face, but then sat back down again.

"Do not test me, Nico," he said quietly. "Did you not hear what I said before?" With that, our discussion was over, and he strode away from the little table and towards the throne room.

_Vlacas, _I thought. My father's stubbornness would be the death of all of us. I had thought that being his son would convince him, but I suppose it only made his argument seem more legitimate. I glanced back down at the table. There was a pile of rapidly morphing flowers in the middle, like Demeter and Persephone were still arguing. They had also knocked over several bowls, which had shattered on the cold marble floors, with their Olympian anatomies. Wheat was strewn around Demeter's chair. Cereal and granola had been spilled.

_Well, I'm not going to clean up _their _mess, _I thought defiantly, and walked away.

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**Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated! Criticism is welcomed.**


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